


Not Exactly Lacking Skeletons

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-30
Updated: 2007-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: With some help from a manipulative Tim Drake, Dick and Roy work out their issues.





	Not Exactly Lacking Skeletons

It certainly wasn't the first time they'd been locked in a tight spot together, but it was the first time that the Roy half of their partnership looked so completely and utterly pissed off about being there. Dick didn't need to wait for Roy to speak to hear the displeasure the other man exuded, but he did anyway, because really what was there to say to someone who had grown to hate his presence so much?

"How do we _always_ manage to get locked up together like this?" Roy grumbled, running his hands through hair that was still too short for Dick's taste. He'd thought Roy was going to let it grow out. . .when Roy had walked away from the Outsiders, it had been well on its way to the familiar shag that Dick had clung to, both as a leash and as a decidedly less thought out form of reckless abandon. The longer hair was a symbol of every heated night they'd shared between them, just as the close crop was a symbol of everything that had gone wrong between them.

Most of which Dick was willing to bear the responsibility for entirely.

"I think it has something to do with our friends' crappy sense of humor," Dick remarked, double checking every means of exit he could think of, just so he could avoid the irritated expression on Roy's face.

"Yeah? Robin? Is not _my_ friend," Roy spat, and Dick steeled himself away from the wince that such a statement caused. "My friends wouldn't knock me unconscious and stick me in an elevator without any clothing, weapons, or my JLA communicator."

"I'm sorry," Dick muttered. "I think this one is all my fault."

"Oh? Want to share why exactly Robin thinks some quality time locked in an elevator together is good for either of our mental healths?"

Dick sighed, and tried to focus on answering Roy's question, instead of reflecting on all the times that they'd been locked up together before, and the much more _enthusiastic_ way Roy had voted to spend their time together in those situations. "He's not been dealing well since Superboy's death," Dick informed Roy.

"And that has what to do with us, exactly?"

"He might have mentioned that he thought we should 'work things out' while both of us were alive and able to do so. I . . . might have mentioned that there was no way in hell you'd be willing to talk to me again unless we were . . .locked in a room together." And by room, Tim apparently thought 'elevator in Titans' Tower ' was an appropriate substitute.

The kid possibly needed therapy.

Roy stared at him, with a look full of the kind of betrayal that Dick had seen twice before -- _Except he was never a junkie; Don't get up_ \-- before sliding down and hitting the floor of the elevator with a thump that had to hurt, because those red silk boxers couldn't have provided any adequate padding. Roy took the time to glare at the condoms and lube that Tim had so thoughtfully left for them before asking, "Why, oh, _why_ would you do something like that?"

Dick shrugged, and sunk to the floor more slowly, on the opposite side of the elevator. "Because I never thought that Tim would go nuts, knock us unconscious, and lock us in the Tower's elevator until we cleared up our differences."

"Why not? It's nothing Donna, Joey, Vic, and Wally didn't do before him," Roy grumbled. "And clear up our differences and have sex. That was the command, Short Pants. There really isn't any way to break the surveillance equipment in this thing?"

"We designed it to withstand our worst enemies, Roy; there's nothing we can do about it armed with nothing more than our underwear, condoms, and lube. And you forgot Kory, Garth twice over, and the time Donna, Raven, and Jesse combined forces to lock us in -"

"No, I didn't _forget_ , Short Pants."

Roy's voice was curt, and Dick wiggled against the elevator floor. He hoped Tim wasn't quite insane enough to actually leave them in here. Roy was obviously never going to forgive him. They'd probably starve. Or no, they'd die of thirst first. If not oxygen deprivation, depending on how air tight this elevator was.

They'd probably know in a couple of hours.

Roy broke into Dick's morose thoughts with a sigh. "Dick? Why did you tell Tim that I wouldn't talk to you unless we were locked in a room together?"

"Because it's true?"

Dick did have time to duck and miss the tub of lube flying at his head, which, sadly, had been thrown in irritation, not invitation. "Right. Let's review. Which one of us is it that keeps walking away? Here's a hint. It isn't me."

"You walked away from the Outsiders," Dick muttered petulantly. He didn't add, _"After some pretty nice make up sex, too."_

Roy's eyes narrowed. "You really do not want to bring the Outsiders up as an example, 'Wing. You _really, really_ don't." Roy shifted his weight and pulled his knees up to his chest. Gold eyes glinted over top of the redhead's knees as he glowered at his companion. "I had to go, for the sake of the life I have with Lian. But I didn't want to leave."

"You didn't?" Dick fiddled with the top of the lube, hoping his voice didn't sound as needy and desperate as he felt.

"Christ. Of course I didn't want to, Dick. We'd just. . .I'd just gotten you back. After I almost lost you. I figure after the Renegade mess, the period of you being an ass after Donna's death, and you almost dying on me, we deserved _years_ worth of makeup sex for that."

"And the junkie comment," Dick added softly, certain he was _never_ going to stop feeling guilty about that. "And . . .going back to Babs."

Roy gave a snort, and banged his head against the wall of the elevator. "Both of those things are included in the 'period of being an ass.' But yeah, for those? You owe me months of blowjobs. Possibly of the unreciprocated variety."

"I could _do_ that," Dick assured, entirely too quickly. But where Roy was concerned? Dick wasn't sure he wasn't above begging.

"Yeah. You didn't seem to interested in blowjobs of any variety, except possibly from that Cheyenne chick, the last time I stopped in to check with you in New York. By the way, for the record? I was stopping by so we could pick up where we left off when I quit the Outsiders."

Dick sighed and smacked the lube down on the floor of the elevator, mourning all the times he was never going to use it with Roy ever again. "I was still going through a rough spot when you dropped by. . . I can't _begin_ to tell you how sorry I am for -"

"Could you be bothered to _try_? Just once, pretend that I matter enough to you to do that?"

"You think you don't matter to me? Haven't you been reading the papers? Didn't you notice how stark raving insane I went without you by my side, _on my team_? Why do you think I left the Outsiders? Why do you think the man you met up with in New York was so much different from the man you walked away from a year ago? " Realizing he was shouting, Dick pulled his own knees close and took three short breaths before continuing, trying to keep his voice softer. Roy had every right to still be angry with him. If the other man couldn't see how much he mattered, that was _Dick's_ fault. "I am so _very_ sorry for each and everything I have ever done to hurt you, every time I pushed you away, and each stupid wall I tried to put between us. And if you truly don't understand how important you are to me . . . then I have fucked up even worse than I thought. I'm not sure I can ask you to forgive me for that, when I won't ever be able to forgive myself."

"Aw, hell." Roy abruptly stood up, walked over to where Dick was sitting and wrapped an arm around Dick's huddled form. "Now that we worked our issues out, via your breakdown, do we get to move on to the makeup sex?"

Dick first tensed, then leaned back into the touch. "You forgive me?"

Roy shrugged. "When haven't I?"

"Too many times," Dick acknowledged, wondering when that well of forgiveness was going to run out.

"Exactly. So what's one more time in the bigger scheme of things? Besides, last time I checked? My closet wasn't exactly lacking skeletons, you know."

Dick hesitantly leaned up for a kiss, deepening the gesture when Roy responded enthusiastically. When they pulled apart, Dick caressed the scruff on his lover's face and murmured, full of the wonder of a lover's joy, "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't matter either way. You love me. I love you." Roy's grin twisted into the kind of wicked Harper charm that promised a morning of waking up sore all over. "And now that the gushing is out of the way, can we move on to putting on a show for your perverted freak of a little brother?" Roy tilted his head towards the stash of supplies and Dick grinned back, a full blown Robin-style smirk before reaching down to remove his boxers.

The door to the elevator was opened by a very relieved Tim Drake ten minutes later, following the first climax, but neither Dick nor Roy made any effort to move their activities elsewhere.

They did, indeed, put on a very _nice_ show, for Tim and anyone else who might have gained access to the Tower's security logs.


End file.
